


Baby's First Fight

by Irollforinitiative



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Romance, Family Dynamics, Father and son bonding, Fights, M/M, NHL fighting, but it's very secondary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irollforinitiative/pseuds/Irollforinitiative
Summary: Jack avoids fighting to the point that his team starts to notice. Bad Bob didn't get his nickname for nothing and steps in to be sure Jack is really a part of the team. With a little prep work Jack is finally ready for his first NHL fight. Complete with Bad Bob and Jack having some bonding time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly my best writing but I really wanted to write some Bad Bob and Jack bonding. Note: I'm ignoring plenty of hockey rules. If the Falconers can magically exist and Jack can play in the Q and NCAA, then I can make bench clearing brawls still a thing :D

_ OH AND THERE HE GOES! Bad Bob Zimmermann is earning that nickname again tonight, folks. He’s gone after their goalie! Good lord he’s got a good 50 pounds on Bad Bob without the gear! Who does that? _

_ Bad Bob Zimmermann that’s who. Look at the crowd! These Montreal spectators look like they’re going to break the glass themselves. No one can fire up a team and a crowd quite like Bad Bob. How many goals on penalty kills have the Canadiens gotten this season? Five? _

_ Looks like it’s going to be six tonight folks! Bad Bob’s headed to the sin bin and the Canadiens look ready for blood!  _

Jack still remembers watching his dad play. It was nearing the end of his career when Jack was old enough to watch, but it was still weird watching his dad play. At home Bob was so sweet. He would pick Jack up from in front of the television and toss him in the air, laughing and cooing over his son. When they’d go on the ice together Jack was always able to steal the puck from Bob who would act like it was the best executed play he’d ever seen. Jack was 7. It was probably a horrible play. 

But somehow that same man would get on the ice with his team and the moment they needed it, those gloves would hit the ice and Bob would just lay into anyone who crossed his path. Not only that but he was the top scorer of his damn team. A top scoring forward that also doubled as an enforcer? Yeah. There’s a reason Jack’s spent most of his life struggling to just be half as good as his dad. 

Struggling was a good word for it. Jack was his own worst critic in living up to his father’s legacy. The one thing that he was thankful for was that times had changed. The NHL no longer really keeps goons on their teams and fights are much less common than they were in his father’s day.  All this means that Jack has been able to spend his career just focusing on being a good scoring player. If anything goes down one of the D men will settle the score like they do and he will go about his business. And he does it well. No one on the Falconers even questions it when he ducks a fight in their season opener. Because of course everyone is gunning for Bad Bob’s son but he’s a forward who doesn’t train for this. Not that any of the Falcs really do. They’re some of the worst fighters in the league. Still, the fights happen and Jack just avoids them. Thank God the one time he gets pulled into the center of a scrum Guy and Marty are there to quite literally pull him out of the fracas. After the game he makes a note to thank Marty, switching easily into French as they always do together. 

“Thanks for tonight.” Jack nods as they’re milling around the dressing room. 

Marty shrugs. “You looked like a wet cat. Had to help you out. No one wants their fist fight in the NHL to be one you can’t win.” 

Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “Not so sure I ever want that first fight.” 

“No one ever wants to. But sometimes shit happens.” Mary shrugs and slaps Jack’s back a little bit harder than necessary before walking off. 

Yeah. Fuck shit. Jack’s not going to fight. He keeps dodging fights game after game even as players continue seek him out, hoping to start something with Bad Bob’s son. A month into the season he’s starting to wonder if there’s a bet going on who can land the first punch on him. Other teams start getting cruel, shouting about wanting to fuck up his pretty teeth and a few other chirps that almost make him see red. Almost. But every eye is on him and he can’t let the Falconers down. In fact, it’s almost two months into the season when Jack even gets his first penalty. 

He gets 2 for hooking and has to grit his teeth to keep from shouting at the fact that he did nothing wrong. Fucking. Nothing. The fucking Blackhawks drew the fucking penalty out by fucking skating into his fucking stick. God when he gets out of the box he wants to do nothing more than skate up to 88 and lay right the fuck into him. No. He can’t. Instead he swallows it down and focuses on winning. 

When he makes it back to the bench Tater slaps his leg “Little Zimmboni finally go to sin bin. Growing up before my eyes.” 

Jack sighs and shakes his head. “I can’t believe they pulled that penalty out of me. I shouldn’t have let them. I’m just glad you guys were able to kill the penalty, eh?”

Tater sighs and shakes his head. “Always so serious. You want me to fuck his day?” 

Jack looks out on the ice and grits his teeth before letting out a short breath and shaking his head. “No. No I like playing a clean game.” 

“Okay. Whatever you want.” Tater sighs but sounds dejected at the fact he doesn’t have permission for revenge. 

In the next game, moments after they start the third period, Ovechkin takes a swing at him. He ducks it and scrambles away as quickly as he can, nearly falling on his ass in an effort to dodge the fight. Guy is right there, though, shoving Ovi back. 

“Lay the fuck off my rookie.” Guy pushes up into Ovechkin's space. 

Ovechkin laughs and smiles. “And if I don’t? What will you do about it?”

Guy smiles and it’s almost unnerving to see him finally smile at someone. Before Jack can blink twice both men have their gloves and helmets off and are holding one another at arm’s length, taking a swing here and there when they can. All it takes is one well placed punch on Guy for more Falconers to skate over, finding their presence answered by more of the Capitals. It’s like an explosion when Ovi hits Guy hard enough to start his nose bleeding. The refs are blowing their whistles even as both benches suddenly empty, pouring onto the ice. Jack skates backwards, not stopping until he’s back by their net. 

Snowy sighs and shakes his head. “I wish I could get out there.”

Jack looks at him, startled. “What?”

“Until their goalie makes a move I’m stuck here if I don’t want my ass chewed out by the coaches,” he nervously shifts back and forth on his skates, “but whatever. You get any good swings in?”

“I...no I got out of there once they started fighting.” Jack shakes his head as the refs and linesmen are finally able to get players pulled apart, sending them back to the benches for now. 

Snowy looks at him, lifting his mask to frown at Jack. “You dodged the bench clearer?”

“Yeah?” 

“These are fucking rare. There’s like one or two a season in the damn league. And that fucker punched the shit out of Guy. Who was standing up for you.” Snowy shakes his head, looking confused. 

“I...I don’t fight.” Jack skates off to join his teammates as the fight finally breaks up. 

Even with all the penalties and Guy needing to go into the dressing room for a few minutes to get his nose set again after Ovi broke it, the Falcs still go from trailing by two to leading by one by the time the final buzzer sounds. The home crowd sighs and those that didn’t already bug out early drag their heels as they leave what had looked like a sure thing at the start of the third. 

The dressing room is one big party as they change and give interviews. Everyone is telling and retelling who they fought and how many hits they got in. Finally Marty looks at Jack. 

“So how did you like your first NHL fight? Certainly was a memorable one, eh?” 

Jack stares for a moment but it’s Snowy that answers. “Jack didn’t fight.”

The dressing room gets suddenly quieter as everyone mumbles about it. Jack looks around, feeling his pulse starting to spike. Somehow he failed his team. He was just trying to help his team and not fail them but he did apparently. Fuck. 

The relative silence is broken by a very bruised Guy who nods at Jack. “It’s okay. A bench clearing fight against the Caps isn’t exactly an easy induction into the tradition.”

Jack is thankful for the out but that word haunts him through the cooldowns, his time with the trainers, the interviews, and the flight back to Providence.  Tradition. It’s tradition to fight in the NHL. Used to be there were people who made their career fighting. Hell even his uncle Wayne got into fights here and there. The face of the league has changed but they players still fight. Hell lots of teams fight in practice so they’re ready for the games. The Falcs could probably use to do that. Almost across the board they turned out worse for the wear compared to the Capitals tonight. But it didn’t matter. Winning a fight didn’t matter. The fight itself did. 

It’s the early hours of the morning when he’s driving home but suddenly he finds his phone ringing. Bittle is asleep by this hour and so the call itself is worrisome. Jack can’t help but be surprised when he sees it’s his father. His father will call him here and there but this is...unusual. He greets his father in French, always glad to be able to slip into his first language. 

“Papa, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Bob sighs over the line. “You didn’t fight tonight, son.”

“...no I didn’t.”

“Does your team know you didn’t fight?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And Guy made an excuse for me. But they weren’t...happy.”

“Jack are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you fight?”

Jack takes a deep breath. He’s never discussed this with his father. He’s just come off NCAA where he couldn’t have fought if he wanted to. But now? Well apparently now it’s time to have this conversation with his father. If he wasn’t awake for this drive home from the airport. before he certainly his now. 

Jack takes a deep breath and nods to himself. “I...I’ve never really learned to fight. And I’m a scorer. The league is different than it was and my job is to just score. No one expects me to fight and so I don’t because if I fight I get penalties and if I get penalties then my team has to play without me and I don’t want to put them in that position.”

“Did you learn nothing watching me?”

“That was different.”

“How so? Aren’t you angry out there? Don’t you sometimes think you’d just like to clock someone?”

“All the damn time. But I can’t put my team on penalty kill.”

“I understand that Jack. But you have to be a part of the team.”

“I...am I not part of the team?”

“Son you know I am always proud of you. But tonight you’re not. Tonight the team got in a fight but you watched.”

“But Snowy--”

“Goalies rarely fight. Sure there’s Roy and a few others in the past but they usually don’t. And he wanted to fight. I could tell. But you didn’t. Jack you just looked scared.” 

“I...I was scared.”

The line is silent for a long moment before Bob answers. “I’m coming up. You have three days off yes?”

Jack can feel his heart start to race immediately and he shakes his head. “Papa no I’m fine you don’t need to-”

“Jack breathe. I’m not upset with you. I’m going to teach you to fight.”

“...what?”

“You need to learn to fight. I used to be fairly good at it. I want you to succeed at this Jack but if you want your team to like you then you need to fight from time to time. Not often. Not constantly. But sometimes...so you can be a part of the team.”

Jack takes a slow breath and lets it out just as slowly. His father is right. Tradition. That’s what Guy said. The Zimmermann tradition is fighting. He doesn’t have to be a fighter but he can’t let his team down. He just can’t. 

“Okay. I don’t want to let my team down.”

Bob chuckles fondly. “Jack I’ve known you your whole life. You won’t let them down. You’ll exceed every hope they even dared to have.”

Jack blushes and smiles. He is, as always, his own hardest critic. And contrary to what most of his past and present teammates would think, his father is his biggest cheerleader. It’s like a weight is lifted off his chest and he enjoys talking to his father the last fifteen minutes of his drive home, sharing stories about the game and the four roadies they just came off of. 

When Jack gets home he smiles and texts Bitty. 

_ My dad is coming up for these days off. He’s going to teach me to fight, apparently. _

Bitty doesn’t text back until the next morning but it’s a string of both happy and sad emoticons. Bad Bob coming down means Bitty can’t come stay the night. His parents know about Bitty but knowing about him and seeing him come stay with Jack are two very different things. But it also means that Jack’s getting what he needs to succeed with the Falcs and that’s very good. They will have other days to spend together but this is his only rookie year. 

Bob shows up by late morning (he took an Uber from the train station and refused to let Jack wake up earlier to get him) and drops his overnight bag on Jack’s sofa as soon as he walks in the door. 

“You have practice today?”

Jack is still in sweats and shakes his head. “No. Day off to rest and don’t have practice til tomorrow afternoon.” 

Bob nods and smiles. “Good. I found a boxing gym not too far away from here and called on the way over to let them know we might need to come by and use some gloves.”

“Boxing?”

“Yeah. I figured the first times you punched your own father you’d want gloves on.” Bob winks and picks up his overnight bag, pulling out athletic shorts and a light shirt.

Jack laughs and crosses his arms. “I’m hitting you?”

“How else are you going to learn? Go change. You’ve got a lot to learn.” 

Jack shakes his head and goes into his bedroom, putting on shorts and running shoes. He’s not exactly sure that’s what to wear but it was what his father was putting on. They get into Jack’s car and head to the gym. It’s four hour later before they come back out. First they went to the bags and Bob made sure Jack knew how to punch at all. Once that was taken care of they sparred and did their best to act like they were on the ice, holding each other’s shirts and taking wild swings. Jack isn’t sure he can hit his father until Bob hits him hard across the jaw, making his ears ring and his blood boil. The punch he responds with makes Bob back up and laugh. Turns out Jack takes after his father more than he thought. 

They have a quiet dinner at Jack’s apartment and Bob smiles at the notes from Bitty on Jack’s refrigerator. 

“Good to see Eric comes up regularly.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m surprised he’s not here now.”

Jack blushes and looks at his mostly empty plate. “He was planning to but…”

“But you didn’t want your old man to see you bring someone home?”

“Something like that.”

Bob laughs and shakes his head. “I understand. But I wouldn’t have minded. I like Eric. He’s good for you.” 

Jack nods and smiles. “There was a time when I’d have hated to hear that. I did hate to hear it. But it’s true. He is.”

“I’m glad you have him.” 

The next day Bob calls the coaches and arranges to come by. He’s going to give the whole team a short clinic in fighting. Of course everyone is over the moon. Most of the Falcs are still a bit star struck by Bob and the chance to learn to fight from Bad Bob? Yeah they’re tripping over themselves for the chance. 

“Okay boys. I saw that bench clearer and I have to say...it was hard to watch. I think every single one of you got your asses handed to you. Some of you were fighting rookies. It was just plain disappointing. I can’t have my son playing for a team that can’t win a fight against a damn rookie. So today you’re gonna get my trade secrets. Haven’t shared them with anyone before today. So,” he winked and tossed the gloves from his borrowed hockey gear aside, “we won’t be needing these for now. Let’s learn how to win.”

If anyone realizes he’s probably here for Jack, they don’t say it. Instead even the veterans soak up the lessons on dropping gloves, holding sweaters effectively, taking hits, and swinging at the opportune moments. By the end of practice they’ve practiced everything slow and everyone has taken and given a couple of almost full strength hits. Jack’s jaw is already red from the day before at the gym and no one really hits him too hard but he lands a firm hit on Snowy who grins at him. 

“Shit Zimms you take after your dad apparently.” 

Jack leaves practice feeling like he’s floating. Bob gives the defense coach a few pointers and for the next month the fighting practice becomes a small part of one practice a week. Jack is starting to actually feel…confident. 

And so when they find themselves at home playing the Avalanche and trailing by three after the second period, he pulls out his phone while they’re in the dressing room and texts Bitty. 

_ Don’t worry about me...but I’m gonna start a fight I think. _

Oh honey. Are you sure?

_ Yes. We have to turn the tide of this game and I...I want to be part of the team.  _

Win this fight for me and I’ll give you a blow job so long I’ll have to eat soft foods for a week. 

Jack stares at his phone for a full minute. If he wasn’t going to fight before he certainly is now. Before Jack can type out a response he gets a text from his father. 

You can do this. I’m proud of you.

Jack smiles and nods. He can do this. He can start this fight and he can win it. Now he just has to decide who to mess with. There’s plenty of D men to work with but right now on his side it's McLeod out and he’s...well known as a good fighter. Jack knows he’s not bad at fighting but it’s still his first fight. But then their captain puts a rough hit on Poots. It’s clean but still, Landeskog didn’t have to hit quite that hard. And he didn’t need to grin and chirp as he skated off. Captain, forward, not averse to fighting. Landeskog it is. Jack’s line is out next and when he faces Landeskog on the face off he looks up at the other man and grits his teeth. 

“That hit was fucking bullshit and you know it.” 

Landeskog laughs. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it. Everyone knows you don’t fight.”

“That’s about to change.” 

“Seriously?” The Avs captain looks almost excited as he looks up at Jack. 

Jack nods. “Yeah. I’m gonna beat the shit out of you for that.” 

“Oh hell yeah.” 

As soon as the puck drops so do Jack’s and Landeskog’s gloves. He holds Landeskog’s sweater and waits till he’s ready to start swinging, just like his father taught him. Not just fighting but fighting fair because that’s what you do and if you fight dirty you get more than two minutes. Landeskog lands the first hit and it makes Jack’s teeth rattle. The pain only makes him angrier and suddenly he’s winding back and hitting hard. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but hard enough that as he pulls his fist back he can see the cut on Landeskog’s cheek. They each land a few more hits before Jack lands another big hit on Landeskog, knocking him off balance enough that he falls to the ice. Jack lets him go immediately and looks up as whistles blow. The crowd is on their feet, slamming their own fists on the glass. His whole team is shouting and screaming, pumping their fists in the air as the Avs captain gets to his feet and wipes a blood drip off his cheek. 

“Damn. I lost to a rookie.” Landeskog shakes his head before heading to the bench. 

Jack is sent to the penalty box for two minutes and the PK line is sent out. Well...he’s usually on that line so they’ve made a substitution. But still, they do their job well and block the two shots on goal that the Avs pull off during their power play. By the time Jack heads back out he can feel the shift in momentum. They tie it up by the end of the period. It’s only 30 seconds into overtime when Marty gets a sick rebound and then it’s all over. They beat the Avs. 

Later when Jack is sitting on his couch watching the interviews he will see the grin Landeskog gives the cameras when he brags about being Jack Zimmermann’s first fight. But right after the game, after he’s gotten a hug or helmet tap from all his teammates, he slips out of the dressing room to find a quiet hallway near the ice baths so he can call his father. 

“Good lord Jack I’m glad you didn’t hit me that hard.” Bob doesn’t even bother with hello. 

Jack laughs, grinning at the wall as he hears the pride in his father’s voice. “Well I thought you’d hit me fairly hard but I thought Landy was going to rattle some teeth out tonight.”

“But he didn’t. And you won fair and square.”

“And we won.”

“And you won.”

Jack smiles and the line is quiet for a long moment. 

“Thanks.”

Bob chuckles softly as he answers, “for what?”

“For teaching me how to fight.”

“Jack I taught you to throw a punch when you were a kid. You already knew how. I just helped you practice.”

“Well thank you for helping me practice.”

“Of course, son. I am so proud of you. I’m so excited to see you play in the NHL. But do that you have to be a part of your team. Tonight you really are.”

“Yeah. They’re all celebrating the win.”

“Good. They deserve to. You deserve to. Just don’t get too power hungry. You remember the year I bit off more than I could chew and got my jaw broken.”

It’s Jack’s turn to laugh. “I do. Liquid diet and all. And I really don’t think I want to fight often. That hurt almost as much as a puck to the face.”

“And think, you didn’t choose a tough guy.”

“That’s why I chose him. I knew I could make it out alive and there’d be no grudge held against me.”

“You chose well. You always do. Go celebrate with your team. I love you, Jack.” 

“I love you too, Papa.” Jack smiles and hangs up the phone. 

He takes an extra second to text Bittle back, assuring him he’s not too beaten up and sending a selfie of the bruise he’s got on his jaw before heading back to the dressing room to celebrate. It’s not that there’s anything big that has changed in the dressing room. Everyone is still the same and Jack is still the same, but there’s something about the way his teammates act around him that’s different. Suddenly he’s not the rookie that everyone is getting to know. Suddenly he’s just one of the guys on the team. 

  
  



End file.
